Blame the Fire
by scarlettwriter11
Summary: When John meets Mary, Sherlock cannot help but feel a little betrayed. Little does he know, that it is about to get so much worse for both him and John... Requested prompt
1. The Declaration

**A/N: This is yet, a requested prompt from one of my followers on Tumblr. I must say, it took me quite a bit longer to get started than all the others, but I think I have a pretty good start. **

**WARNING: This may not end well. That's all I'm going to say for now...**

**More chapters to come! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I will not pretend that my feelings, feelings that can hardly be explained, for my flat mate are nonexistent. That would be foolish. No, but I will hide them. They are messy and worm their way into every crevice of our fragile relationship, can tip the scale at any moment if I am not careful. I am master of my emotions, something I pride myself on. If I can manage to squash down any petty emotion as I have done in the past, then I can keep them below the surface now. But, this will surely be the most challenging attempt. Because wherever John is concerned, things become, complicated and I end up tangled in a sticky web, unable to free myself. I can't get tangled in the web this time. For both of our benefit. It's probably the most selfless thing that I have ever done. Letting John go. Letting him live the life he deserves, at the expense of my last tie to humanity…

* * *

_Blame the fire_

_For it always burns._

_It lights our way_

_But eats our path._

_Guidance of a fool,_

_Riddles one and two._

_Shadowy and clear,_

_It leaves the bones behind,_

_Exposed and underfed._

_Without the fire,_

_Sight be damned._

_Knowledge, lead the way!_

_For it is cool and distant,_

_Let the smoke clear away._

* * *

This new woman was worse than all of the others combined. My reasoning? _She tolerated me._ Every snide remark, every bitter truth I unearthed from her and had thrown back in her face, every, damn, time I openly expressed my opinion of her, she endured. And not only that, she took it with, grace. There was no glare, no puffing up in anger in order to defend her pride and dignity. Nothing. She was cool, calm, and collected. And worst of all, John was deeply invested in this woman.

Yes, John could get easily attached to women, but this was different. It was as if this woman had somehow managed to change something in John, something that previous girlfriends had been unable to do. And whatever that something was, whatever that woman had altered, it had completely erased John's urgency to comply with my requests.

When I would ask for a pen: "Get it yourself Sherlock, it's right there in front of you."

When I needed him to go to Scotland Yard for information on a case: "Can't right now Sherlock, going on a date with Mary. Be back in a couple of hours." (Oh yes, the woman's name is Mary, how did I manage to leave that out? See?! This woman was even affecting my ability to conjure up important information!)

When I asked him to come along with me to a crime scene: "Fine Sherlock, but only for a little while. I'm meeting up with Mary in a bit."

John has friends. John has girlfriends. But John has never, in the time that I have known him and otherwise, had such a committed relationship as he does with this Mary woman. Well, I suppose, he is rather committed to me, but never romantically and certainly not as much as he used to be. I need John for my work. And John needs me to keep him busy, stimulate his mind, separate him from the dull workings of everyday life. Surely that is all he needs?

Wrong. Wrong, on all counts. And I am rarely ever wrong. So what is this woman doing that I cannot see? What does this Mary have that I cannot give John? _What have I missed?_

I have been watching them from afar, John and Mary. Casually eavesdropping on their conversations, keeping an eye on them when they go out. If they could get any more boring, I would be utterly surprised. Would I? I mean, everything exceptional that could be happening between the two seems to lack completely. Every word they utter to each other is tedious, ordinary, and mundane. Every outing is, lackluster, to say the least. For God's sake, John's sense of humor seems to have taken a downturn since meeting Mary. So what then, _is going on between them? _I see absolutely no redeeming qualities in this relationship, and fully support a separation.

Of course, John disagrees.

"Sherlock, what are saying? You don't like her?" John demanded as he paced in the living room, pinching the bridge of his nose as he does whenever something agitates him.

"Oh, no not all. I just don't find her suitable for you."

"And since when do you give me dating advice?" I opened my mouth to answer but he held up a firm hand. "No, don't. I know what you're going to say. I just, can't believe that you don't like her!"

"Really?" I asked sardonically, picking up my bow and violin.

"No, don't start off on your, 'playing the violin just so you can ignore me' thing. We're having this conversation." John now stood before me, fists balled up, ears slowly turning red from anger. I contemplated him for a moment, then slowly put down the instrument.

"Why?" John tilted his head to the side.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to like her?" John's shoulders slackened some and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"It's not that I want you to like her, it's just…"

"It's just what? You don't want me to hate her? What John?"

"I just want you to tolerate her!" John burst, his eyes snapping open once more. "To give her a chance Sherlock."

"Why should I? It wouldn't benefit any of us. Why are you so keen on making this one work?"

"Because I love her Sherlock!"

I stayed seated in my chair, just staring at John. The silence, so pure it was almost like music, playing along to my whirring mind. I didn't dare say a word, for no words were required to express how I felt about this. I let my facial expression convey to John my dissatisfaction with his declaration.

John sighed heavily and then stood straight, attempting to salvage the situation by trying to give the appearance of order and discipline.

"I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." John said stiffly, grabbing his coat as he headed for the door.

"I never do." I said quietly, weaving the bitterness and contempt into the words so that they made John halt in the doorway.

"Right." He said firmly, then slammed the door behind him and clomped down the stairs.

I sat in my chair the whole entire night, listening for those familiar footsteps to bang their way up the stairs. They never did.

* * *

**A/N:Btw, I wrote the poem myself. I have to say, that was one of the hardest parts about writing this fic, was coming up with a suitable poem that would set the tone for the rest of the fic. I suppose, I didn't have to write a poem, but it felt like it needed one. Anyways, sorry it's short. That seems to be a thing of mine, writing extremely short chapters and stories, but at least you can expect more. Thanks for reading!**


	2. The Second Spark

**A/N: AAAHHH, I FINISHED THIS MUCH FASTER THAN I THOUGH I WOULD! It just kind of, spewed out into this angsty, wonderful mess I call chapter two. AND I LOVE IT. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL DO.**

* * *

"Sherlock, are you going to sit there all day or were planning on actually doing something productive?" John demanded as he tore through the flat looking for his wallet. I knew exactly where it was, wedged between the cushion of my chair, which I was currently sitting in.

"Mmm?" John paused to glare at me.

"I know you heard me."

"There's nothing to do, and _please_ don't suggest chores, you know it's useless." I drawled.

"Well, you could always come out with us, if you wanted." John said quietly while continuing his search. I snorted.

"Go with you and Mary out to dinner? Please John, I don't think any of us would find that enjoyable in the slightest."

"I was only trying to be nice."

"Don't, you know it irritates me." John sighed heavily and just stood in the middle of the living room, letting his eyes roam all around the place as if as if he were hoping his wallet would magically appear.

"Well, doesn't seem we'll be going anywhere if I can't find my bloody wallet." John muttered, running a hand through his hair. I watched him steadily as he struggled with the "mystery" of his missing wallet.

"Check upstairs again." I said heavily, picking at the leather of my chair.

"But, oh fine." John tromped out of the room and upstairs. I smiled slightly and unearthed his wallet from beneath me. Five minutes later when he came down, I handed him it to him. He gaped at it for a moment before taking it.

"Thanks, but where did you-?"

"You're going to be late. Go." I said, picking up my violin. John checked his watch and swore under his breath, making his way to the door. Before shutting the it behind him, he poked his head back inside and stared at me sheepishly for a moment.

"You sure you're going to be alright, here? By yourself?" John inquired, licking his lips nervously. I nodded and started playing. I heard him leave with a sigh, clearly disappointed with my lack of communication. Good.

A few weeks had passed since John's little confession. When he finally returned, (clearly having spent the night at Mary's for obvious reasons), I decided it was best to ignore what had happened and continue to go about our lives as we had before. But John was making that increasingly more difficult with each passing day.

Every few days or so he would ask me if I wanted to talk about anything, meaning, if I wanted to talk about our past conversation. Every time I refused, (both in a polite and snide manner depending on my mood and the amount of times John asked me within a single week), he would become, tense and start cleaning things in the flat that didn't need cleaning. Or he would make a cup of tea, sit in his chair for a moment and watch me for some time without drinking his tea, then get up and dump the brew in the sink. It was becoming tiresome. All that pent up emotion he was harboring was affecting how we went on with our daily routines. I was waiting for the day when he would finally burst and force me to have the conversation. I preferred that much more than all this poking and prodding he was doing.

It also didn't help that he was spending an excessive amount of time with Mary, which I suppose wasn't a surprise, but that didn't mean I had to like it. You may say that I was being rather childish about the entire matter, and maybe I was, but I was quickly losing my one and only companion and that was something that I could not take lightly. I had to figure out a way to loosen Mary's grip on John, or John's obsession with Mary, without bruising or breaking our relationship. Or at least, what was left of it.

* * *

John returned later that night, which was surprising seeing as he normally spent the night at Mary's after a night out. There must have been a fight, and judging by the irritated look John gave me as he headed to the kitchen, it had been about me. This made me smile.

"What're you smiling about? New case?" John said half-hopeful. I shrugged and looked away.

"Nothing. How was your date?"

"Oh, don't pretend you don't already know. Go on then, tell me everything that went wrong." John snapped bitterly.

"You had a fight."

"Yeah, and?"

"It concerned me."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can." John pursed his lips together, his breathing deep, attempting to calm himself.

"You know, things could be much easier if you just, weren't such a bloody prick all the time." John said angrily after a moment. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you're going take this out me now, are you? Hmm, very helpful." My sarcasm rolled of every word.

"Shut up Sherlock. I'm not in the mood right now."

"What did you talk about with Mary?"

"None of your business."

"It is if you were talking about me, which you were."

"No, I never sai-"

"Yes you did and don't pretend that you didn't." I snapped. "Now tell me, what is it that got you so riled up? Hmm? My dislike for your girlfriend? My lack of cooperation in the entire matter? Because, I assure you, none of that is going to change, no matter what you do."

"Damn it Sherlock! Of all the women to be making a fuss about, why does it have to be Mary?!" John shouted, pounding his fist against the kitchen table.

"What do you mean?" I asked calmly. This seemed to infuriate him further.

"I mean, Sherlock, that, Mary could very well be the one for me-"

"I've heard that before."

"And so far," John continued as if he hadn't heard me. "You've managed to be at your absolute worst wherever it concerns her. I just don't understand it! Don't you want me to be happy?" This last sentence caught me by surprise. Wasn't he happy by my side?

"John, I-"

"No, Sherlock don't even bother. I don't want to hear it." I stared at John, utterly dumbstruck, (which was something that I hardly ever became).

"John," I started after a moment. When John didn't interrupt me, I continued. "I value your friendship, and happiness, a great deal more than you probably realized." I said, barely above a whisper. I could hear John going over my words in his head.

"What is that supposed to mean?" John said carefully. I looked up at John, and meeting eye to eye, I proceeded into dangerous waters.

"It means that, as our separation becomes more distinct, I shall be, alone." The silence that followed those words cut at me, throwing back in my face those idiotic words I had just unleashed.

"So, you don't want me to be with Mary, to be happy, because you'll be alone?" John said, his words sharp and lashing.

"You know what, forget everything that I said. I'm going to my room." I said, moving to stand.

"No, stay where you are." I did as I was told, for fear something would go terribly wrong if I didn't. "You'd jeopardize my happiness, for the sake of your own?"

"Do not put words into my mouth John." I growled, standing slowly. "You misunderstood me completely."

"Then explain to me exactly what you mean by that." I sighed and turned my body partially away from John.

"I'm not very well liked John, you know this. Not that I mind really, but still."

"Yes, I am very aware of this fact Sherlock."

"Then you know that when you go off on your own, enjoying your new life, I will still continue as I am, as I always will be."

"So? What about before I came along? You got on just fine then." This ignited in me something foreign and unwanted. Loneliness and hurt, two vile creatures of the heart.

"That's not the point John!" I snarled, turning to face him now, my heartbeat quickening. "The point is, I don't want to go back to that! To before I met you! Can't you see that John? Can't you see what you've done to me? You've changed me in such a way that I can never go back! And for that I curse you!" I nearly howled, and when those words left my lips, I felt a horrible and most sickening shame wash over me like scalding oil. It seemed my plan was now dead in the water.

John just stared at me, his face a mixture of shock and what seemed to be embarrassment. When he didn't say anything, I straightened and wiped my face clean of any emotion, reverting back to my old, cold self.

"So, you see, that is why I can't stand to see you move on. Because I cannot." I grabbed my coat and scarf and left the flat without another word, feeling John's confusion coming off in waves that sent terrible shivers down my spine and chilled me to the bone.

I had most assuredly ruined everything that I worked hard to keep whole, and there was only myself to blame for that.

* * *

**A/N: WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?! WHO KNOWS? I am so excited about this fic guys, it's just, wow. I may finish this in record time. I love with a deep and fiery passion. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Eve of End

**A/N: I had this chapter finished on the same day I finished chapter two, but I though I'd wait a day to post it.**

**Mostly dialogue in this one, but I think I get the message across. Enjoy!**

* * *

"You know, he blames himself." Mary muttered as she poured herself another glass of eggnog, sitting beside me on the sofa. I glanced sideways at her, keeping half of my attention on John as he and Greg were arguing about some mind-numbing sport. Molly and Mrs. Hudson talked quietly amongst themselves, clearly drunk off too much eggnog and sherry. If there was any Christmas spirit in the room, it certainly didn't reach me.

"I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." I murmured back. Mary sighed beside me, sipping her eggnog.

"Of course you don't. But, you mustn't be too hard on him. He only wants what's best for you." Mary said quietly. I slowly turned my head towards her.

"Is that so? Because it doesn't seem like it." I said snidely. Mary frowned some.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Mary said beseechingly. I took in a deep breath through my teeth.

"See what?" I demanded.

"That he hates all this fighting just as much as you do." Mary said, making me scoff.

"Then why doesn't he end it? He knows what I want."

"Yes, he knows what you want. The trouble is, do you know what he wants?" I narrowed my eyes at her as she said this.

"Don't try that on me. I have come to realize that you don't give a damn how I insult you, but when it comes to John, you would do anything. But have you realized, so would I?" Mary smiled sadly.

"Yes, I have. And it's because of that reason that I find what you're doing to him now so puzzling."

"And what is it that I am doing to him?"

"Making him choose."

"He's going to do that regardless of what I say or do." I said snippily.

"But, you're just making it harder." My glare thickened.

"And why am I the only one to blame? Things would have remained the same between John and me, if you hadn't come along." I said angrily, growing tired of this conversation and not liking where it was going.

"Yes, but, John decided to get involved with me. He didn't have to, but he did, and here we are. So tell me Sherlock, what are you going to do? Are you going to continue being a sulking child," My glare intensified. "Or, are you going to let John get on with his life, because he is your friend and you want what's best for him?" I hated this woman, for several reasons. One; she was right. Two; I was wrong because she was right. And three; she was stealing my John away from me and there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

"I'll see you tomorrow, love." John said as he kissed Mary tenderly on the lips. She smiled and hummed.

"See you then dear." John shut the door behind her and turned back around, a grin on his face. I watched him sullenly.

"Not going with her?" I asked quietly. John shook his head.

"No, thought I'd spend it here." John said as he sat in his chair, looking around contentedly.

"If you're doing it because you feel bad about leaving me here alone, I assure, I don't mind." I said, flicking a piece of confetti from one of Molly's ridiculous crackers.

"Sherlock, not everything is about you, you know." John said, his voice changing from the cheerful one he had previously to a subdued, tired one.

"I never said it was. I just don't want to ruin your Christmas Eve, that's all."

"Sherlock, you're not, ruining my Christmas. I wanted to be here, and here is where I'll be until tomorrow evening. Okay?" John said imploringly. I stared back at him, and then nodded.

"Fine, if you want."

"I do."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fire crackle and pop pleasantly.

"I talked to Mary earlier." I said.

"Oh really? I hope you were nice."

"Of course." There was a pause, then John spoke up.

"What did you, uh, talk about?"

"You."

"Oh." John said, sounding wary.

"Don't worry, it was nothing too bad."

"Too bad? And what is your definition of too bad?"

"She told me that you hate fighting with me." John sighed and settled back into his chair more.

"I do. What else?"

"And that I should give you what you want."

"Did she?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And what is it that I want?" John said after a minute or so. I let out a breath and turned to John who was already looking at me.

"A life where you get to choose the people you love, and not have someone else do it for you." I replied, although every particle of my body, every cell of my brain, every coursing vein screamed for me not to. It was only my heart that remained silent. John said nothing.

"Thank you Sherlock, thank you." John whispered. I nodded and looked back to the fire. Whether the heat or my aching emotion brought the moisture to my eyes, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I wanted to hide it.

"Shall I put on a kettle?" John asked, getting up.

"Yes please." I breathed.

* * *

John proposed to Mary on New Year's Eve.

On the same day, I found I could do nothing but stand by the window, and watch the snow fall.

* * *

**A/N: Oh Sherlock, let me love you! **

**I have chapter four already written, but I am going to wait a little while to post it. Thanks for reading!**


	4. The Toast

**A/N: Cranking these chapters out like there is no tomorrow! I believe this is the longest chapter yet. ENJOY!**

* * *

"Sherlock, would you care to join us?" Mary asked as she put on her woolen coat. John, similarly dressed in warm winter clothing, looked at me carefully.

"No, I think I'll stay here. Thank you though." I said airily. Mary nodded, smiling, and headed out the door, pausing for a moment in the doorway when John didn't move.

"John, dear, I'll meet you outside." She said sweetly, then turned and left. John had made no sign that he had heard her, just stood there staring at me.

"It's rude to keep people waiting, especially if they're your fiancé." I said, standing up and going to the kitchen.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" John asked sternly.

"John, do you really want me to go with you to pick out napkin patterns?" I said, filling the kettle with water and placing it on the hob.

"No, but, I just, well…"

"Well what?" I said turning, a faint smile on my lips. It wasn't an unpleasant smile. Nor a mocking smile. It wasn't even an amused one. It was just the only thing I could think of that would remotely appease John until he left. A mask so-to-speak. "John, go. The napkin patterns are calling!" I said, my cheerfulness only a thin coating around my words. John sighed and nodded.

"Right then, well, I'll see you in a bit." John exited the flat and when I heard him leave the building, I lowered my head and shut my eyes tightly.

"Damn." I sighed, letting my breath come out shaky and uneven. I had to get this out before I saw John again. Or anyone for that matter.

* * *

"How is the happy couple?" Mycroft asked, sipping lightly from his tea cup. I hadn't even touch mine.

"Fine." I replied shortly. Mycroft raised an eyebrow in the way he knew would irritate me. But to be honest, not even Mycroft could irritate me today.

"Do I detect some bitterness? It's not very becoming for a best man to act as such, especially a day before his only friend is about to get married." I gritted my teeth. Maybe Mycroft _could_ irritate me. He always did have a spectacular talent for doing so, even when I was at my best. And my worst.

"Why are you here Mycroft?" I asked jadedly. Mycroft made a small shrug and set his cup and saucer down.

"No particular reason. I thought I might see how you were doing, seeing as, well, you know." Mycroft said, a smirk on his features.

"Well, I'm doing fine. Now if you could please leave, I would much appreciate it." I said standing. Mycroft stood as well, coat folded over his arm. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, what now?" I demanded. Mycroft's façade fell away for an instant, and I saw revolting pity upon his face. It made me nauseous.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I truly am." He said quietly, then turned and left. What a miserable bastard.

* * *

"How do I look?" John said, his voice shaking. I looked up from the magazine I was skimming through. John stood before me, dressed in a light grey suit, a powder-blue tie, and sleek dark brown shoes. When asked by his sister and Mary why he didn't want to wear his uniform, he simply replied; "It's not relevant." They had made a fuss over it for a little bit, but John wouldn't budge on the matter and they let it go. That had amused me to some extent.

"Very smart." I said, standing up, setting the magazine down. I was dressed in a dark navy colored suit, my grey tie feeling constricting around my neck. Mary and the other ladies had insisted that I wear a tie, and I only gave in just to shut them up when they started getting hysterical and John looked on the verge of shouting. He had had so much stress on him in the past few months. I didn't want to make it any worse.

"You think?" John asked eagerly, turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror.

"Of course. But, I do hope Mary's heels aren't too high." John gave me an un-amused look and shook his head, a grin slowly spreading on his face. We stood for a moment, staring at our reflections before John spoke.

"Sherlock?" John asked quietly.

"Mmm."

"This isn't the end, you know. For us." I stared at John's reflection.

"What makes you say that?" John sighed, seeming to deflate some as his shoulders sagged and his head drooped a little.

"I know, you've been, keeping a good face through this whole process, and well, I know you think once this is all over, you'll be alone," John turned around to face me. "But, you won't. I'll still always be there for you, just, not as much as I used to be. I just don't want, I just don't want you to think-" A knock came at the door.

"John, are you almost ready? The car is waiting outside." Harry's voice said through the door. John sighed.

"Be out in a minute." He answered and then turned back to me.

"John, let's not talk about this now," I said, focusing on straightening his tie. "You're about to get married to a wonderful woman, about to make a whole new life for yourself. Let's not spoil it with good-byes, shall we?" I said while smiling in what I hoped to be a convincing manner.

"Sherlock, I'm not saying good-bye." John insisted, looking troubled. I chuckled.

"Aren't you?" I said softly. John's face fell some, but I placed my hands on his shoulders and turned him around, making him march towards the door. "Come on, we've got a wedding to attend and I don't think it would be very wise of you to miss it."

* * *

"Although I've only known Mary for a little less than a year," Harry said into the mic, already drunk for her nose was red and her face blotchy, her eyes a watery mess. "I was so pleased when she asked me to be, ah, maid of honor. We've become so, so, so, _close_, in these past couple of months, and I don't think my dear little brother Johnny," Harry paused and grinned down at John who had a forced smile on his face. "Could've found a better woman. So, here's to the happy couple!" Harry raised her glass, as did everyone else in the hall. When everyone had toasted and murmured how wonderful Harry's speech had been and what a fabulous time they were having, Harry cleared her throat and they all turned their attention back to her.

"I believe, Sherlock, John's best man would like to say something as well, ain't that right Sherly?" Harry said, beaming stupidly at me. I resisted the urge to glare at her. I stood and took the mic from Harry who had reached over Mary and John to hand it to me, much to their displeasure.

"Good evening everyone," I said. "John and I have been flat mates for some time now. And we've been friends for just as long," I paused and looked down at John for a moment before continuing. "I must say, I was rather surprised on the day that John told me that he loved Mary. To be honest, I thought he was going to remain the perpetual bachelor." The hall laughed some. "But, I now know that, that is not the case. Because John, has found a lovely woman to call his wife, and I know, that Mary will always take care of him, no matter what. So, I give a toast to the happy couple, and hope that they shall receive all the happiness in the world. Because if anyone deserves it, they certainly do. To John and Mary." I said, raising my glass.

"To John and Mary!" The hall echoed back, and we drank. I sunk back into my seat and watched as the reception went underway. When the food came around, I barely touched it, only occasionally sipping from my champagne glass.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John asked, worry rich within his voice. I turned to him and nodded.

"Of course." I replied coolly, and turned away to watch the other guests become more and more rowdy as the alcohol flowed freely.

As the night wore on, I had remained seated in my same spot at the main table. John and Mary had taken to the dance floor, giggling and highly intoxicated. I watched them, more specifically John, as he smiled foolishly at Mary, absolute and pure glee in his eyes. I had had multiple invitations to dance, but I had turned them all down, for obvious reasons. Dance was never really my thing.

They were all so, happy, so oblivious. Couldn't they see everything was changing and that nothing would ever be the same again? Of course they didn't. They were all idiots, destined to continue the cycle. I did not belong here.

"Sulking again, are we Sherlock?" Lestrade said, coming up to me with drink in hand. He wasn't nearly as inebriated as the rest of the party, but he was certainly getting there. He was starting to smell of the stuff.

"No, go away." I said monotonously. Lestrade chuckled and pulled a chair up beside me, despite my eye roll.

"You know, you could be happy for him." Lestrade, taking a sip of what looked, (and smelt), like whiskey.

"I am, didn't you hear my speech?" I snapped, my focus still on John who had now taken off his jacket and tie and was twirling Mary around. "I couldn't be happier."

"Yeah, alright then." Lestrade scoffed. I turned my head towards him, becoming annoyed.

"Is there something else you wanted to say to me?" Lestrade shrugged.

"No, not really. Just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Why does everyone want to know that? Why do they care?" I demanded. Lestrade gave me a poignant look.

"Because, we're worried about you Sherlock."

"Well, as much as I appreciate that, I am perfectly fine. So you can take your concern elsewhere." I spat, looking away.

"Alright then Sherlock. Just know that, if you ever need anything, ever, I'm always here." Lestrade said, standing up.

"Fine."

The night ended at around two in the morning when one of John's relatives decided to take his trousers off and dance around the entire hall singing "Molly Malone".

I stood from a distance as I watched John and Mary pile into the car while the other guests stood around and waved them off. Before getting into the car however, John stopped and looked around, as if trying to find a specific person. Then, his eyes fell on me and he beckoned me forward.

I reluctantly stepped forward and as I came to John, he put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in slightly.

"You are the greatest man I have ever known. Remember that Sherlock, remember that." John whispered into my ear, his breath thick with the scent of alcohol, his speech slightly uneven. I him gave him a soft look and then gently pushed him into the car next to Mary, shutting the car door.

"Good-bye John." I said faintly as the car drove off and out of sight.

* * *

**A/N: I hate myself sometimes. I have chapter five waiting, but I want to have _some_ suspense! So, until next time, thanks for reading!**


	5. A Visitor

**A/N: I'm sorry guys, you may hate me after this because I won't be updating for a little bit. Maybe a week. I'M SO SORRY. Enjoy, hopefully...**

* * *

I had never realized how quiet and how empty the flat seemed without John telling me off for something, or making me a cup of tea, or even the ever-present clicking of his painstakingly slow typing. And I never realized just how much I would miss all that. Not until John had cleared away his last box.

"Well, I think that's the last of them." John said, standing in the doorway of the flat. I was lying on the sofa, my robe carelessly draped over me, firmly ignoring the knowledge of what was about to come.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't want you to forget anything." I said.

"Yeah, pretty sure. And if I did, you can always drop by and give it to me." John said.

"Mmm, right." I muttered. I heard John exhale heavily. Oh God, here we go again.

"Look, Sherlock, just because I'm moving out doesn't mean I won't-"

"Doesn't mean you won't come back and visit, yes John, I know. You've told me several times and _you_ know how much I despise it when you repeat yourself." I growled.

"Alright, well," John chuckled weakly. "I guess I'll be seeing you, that is, unless you need me for anything."

"What would I need you for?" John laughed at that for some reason.

"See ya Sherlock."

* * *

A month had gone by since John had officially moved out, and I was surprised by how much things remained the same, yet changed so drastically.

The sun still came out each morning, (as much the sun can come out in London), and faded with every evening. Spring turned into summer, as it did every year. Nature hadn't changed, and nor had the people around me, but I had changed. I had changed just as much as I did when John first came into my life, maybe more now that he was gone.

I would sit in the flat for hours at a time, sometimes in my chair, sometimes in John's, (although not often because I found it to be so terribly uncomfortable, I didn't know how he stood it), and think about all the things John used to do. And when hunger ravaged at my belly, it would remind me how John would always insist that I eat or drink something. For God's sake, I was acting as if the man were dead! When in reality he was only a few miles away, settling into his new life with Mary. But I didn't dare visit him. Not yet. I didn't really want to see John, not there, not with her.

I still took cases and went to crime scenes, (John's leaving wasn't enough to put me off of my work). In fact, it's what kept me going. But even then, the work became, less and less of a reward, without someone to share my triumph or frustration with. I had once told John that the curse of genius is that it needed an audience, and how so very right I was.

Sally was even more unbearable than usual, telling me that it was my own fault that John had left. I told her it was her own fault that she couldn't find a steady boyfriend. That shut her up for a little bit.

Lestrade tried to keep me busy, calling me for all sorts of cases, whether he really needed my help or not. I knew he was trying to find ways to prevent me from sulking, (which he said that I did far too often). But what did he know? What did any of them know? They had not lived with John, they had not felt his warm presence as I had. They knew nothing, and they never would. I was tormented by their attempts to help me, because it only reminded me of the fact that John was no long my ever-present shadow and moral compass.

I considered the use of drugs, but, I knew that was useless and would get me nowhere. And John wouldn't have approved of my reverting back to my old ways. But those ways were so much simpler than my current ones! I didn't have John's voice constantly in my ear telling me what to do and what not to do back then. It was maddening!

There had to be a way for me to get over all this, misery. It was counterproductive.

* * *

"Got another case for you-" Lestrade said as he came up the stairs and stood in my doorway. Several months had passed since John had moved out. Things hadn't gotten any better, and life became increasingly boring. I still hadn't been to see John, but neither had John been to see me. Yet, Lestrade still persisted on getting me out of the house with his dull cases.

"No." I said, cutting him off.

"But this case, I think you'll like-"

"No."

"Come on Sherlock, I could really use your help on it."

"Why? What is so difficult about this case that you can't figure it out yourself?" I asked angrily, sitting up. Lestrade smiled grimly.

"Man found dead in his basement. No signs of struggle, poison, anything. But it wasn't of natural causes either. No windows, and the door was locked from the inside. Will you take it?" I contemplated Lestrade a moment, and then groaned, giving into my curiosity.

"I'll meet you at Scotland Yard in half an hour."

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I arrived home was the sleek black car that could only belong to one person.

I ran up the stairs, Mrs. Hudson calling after me that my brother was here. Obviously. I hadn't seen my brother since before the wedding. How long ago that seemed…

"Ah, Sherlock, how nice to see you." Mycroft said as I entered the room. He was standing by the fireplace, clutching his umbrella and coat.

"Mycroft, what are you doing here?" I demanded, hanging up my coat and scarf. Mycroft's visits never came with good news. That or he was bringing me a case, either way; it made me uneasy, to say the least.

Mycroft frowned, becoming grave, although it may not have been apparent to the average person, it was plain as day to me. Something was wrong, and terribly so.

"Please, sit down." Mycroft said, gesturing to my chair. I snorted.

"Inviting me to sit in my own flat? I don't think so. Tell me why you're here or leave." I said firmly. Mycroft sighed and nodded, sitting down, despite my own refusal, and rested the umbrella across his knees.

"How long has it been since the wedding?" Mycroft said, looking up at me thoughtfully after a moment aggravating silence.

"Eight months and three days. Why?" Mycroft's heavy sighing was starting to wear my patience thin.

"It's a shame, really. Married only seven months and already a widower. Too bad, John seemed happy."

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**A/N: OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY. BUT, not really because I enjoy keeping you in suspence. :D So, until next time, (and I honestly don't know when that will be), thanks for reading!**


	6. A Reunion

**A/N: Hey, so if you read the last chapter before I edited it, I meant 'widower', instead of 'widow'. So, yeah, sorry if I freaked anyone out. And so now I'm really paranoid that I missed something on this chapter while editing, so if you see anything that you think that I might need to fix, please tell me. Because, that last mistake was a tad embarrassing and I'd really hate for it to happen again. **

**Anways, I lied. I guess it didn't take me a whole week to finish this chapter. So, enjoy!**

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"He's going to tell you himself of course, in fact, he'll be here within the hour. But, I thought I'd tell you first, so you could," Mycroft paused and smiled morosely. "Prepare yourself."

My first thought was John. How was he handling this? Probably with a straight face, formal demeanor, very military and very controlled.

"How did it happen?" I asked, sliding my hands into my pockets. It couldn't have been work related. It was highly unlikely that Mary would have been killed while managing a daycare center. And the possibility that it was health related was out of the question. John would have contacted me sooner if she had suddenly contracted a fatal disease, and I would have figured out by now if she had some illness or defect that could potentially risk her life span that she had had prior to meeting John. So what then?

"Hit by a car while crossing the street. Died on impact apparently. At least it was painless. Well," Mycroft paused and frowned slightly. "For her anyways. I imagine John is not taking this very well. How are you going to handle him?" While he had been talking, I had wandered over to the window and stared out it, watching as the powdery flakes of snow drifted to the ground, coating the sidewalks and street before being plowed over by pedestrians and passing cars.

"Yesterday," I said, turning around to face Mycroft again. "It happened yesterday, didn't it?" Mycroft nodded. Deep down, I wished it had been John that had told me. Then, I wouldn't have had time to compose myself and I would be able to give John all the emotional attention and comfort he needed. With Mycroft's warning, I was forming a hard shell, composed of the niggling thoughts of how John had never once visited me in the past eight months, and going deeper, that he had gotten married in the first place and left me. Deeper still, that he had fallen in love with someone that wasn't me.

Oh God, there it was.

The truth. The truth behind everything. My jealously, my hatred, my hurt, my conflict. My love. My love for John.

What a truly spiteful thing it was, tearing me apart, tearing John away from me. How could I face him when the fact of it all had just hit me? I was in no state to face John, let alone comfort him. Not now, not yet.

But, it was too late. I glanced out the window to see a cab pull up, and John step out of it.

"I think I'll take my leave. Good-bye Sherlock," Mycroft paused by the door. "And good-luck."

* * *

"Sherlock." I had heard John climb the steps to the flat and enter the room, but I had made no indication that I heard him. I was still looking out the window, trying to compose myself. But when John spoke, his voice hard and expressionless, I couldn't resist the urge to turn. When I did, I saw John as I had never seen him before. Well, that wasn't true. I had seen him like this only once before. When we had first met.

Stiff, shoulders back, eyes sharp and alert. His lips were a hard line and his brows were furrowed in what looked like perpetual concentration. This was a man who wished to give off the appearance that everything was in control, that nothing could break him. Trouble is, this was the most broken I had ever seen John.

"John," I said, taking a step forward. "Come in, please." John took a few steps forward, looking about the place. It was a bit messy, and had it been any other time, under any other circumstance, John would have been bothered by it. But the fact that his stare glazed over the mess, worried me.

"I'm guessing Mycroft already told you." John said after a moment of looking around. I hesitated before answering.

"Yes, he did." John nodded, and looked to his old chair. He frowned at it for a moment, his strong stance weakening some.

"May I?" he asked, looking back at me while gesturing towards his chair.

"Of course. Would you like some tea?" I offered, making my way towards the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you."

Once we had our beverages and were sitting opposite each other in our chairs just as we used to, I waited for John to say something. And when he didn't, I did.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, cursing myself for asking such a stupid and obvious question. John took a deep breath and nodded.

"Fine, fine. You know, it's just, well, yeah, you know." John said, his control breaking a little. He gripped his mug tighter.

"Actually, no I don't." I said quietly, taking a sip of my tea. John looked up at me, confusion on his features.

"What do you mean?"

"You say everything is fine, when clearly they are not."

"Sherlock, if you're going to be like that then I'm leaving." John said firmly, getting up. I quickly grabbed hold of his arm, making him freeze.

"No, stay. Please." John's expression softened and he sunk back into his chair. He looked around the flat once more before returning his attention to me.

"What did Mycroft tell you?" he asked.

"Hit by a car. Died on impact." I said calmly, although internally, my insides were bubbling and I longed to break my shell and show John everything that he meant to me and that he was not alone. No, no, I couldn't do that. At least one of us had to remain whole, and John was slowly on the verge of breaking. Not yet. I couldn't break yet.

"I was at work. Lestrade actually phoned me. Told me he was sorry." John said, chuckling dryly. I watched John carefully. His lip trembled ever so slightly. John looked up and met my eyes. The bubbling turned to boiling.

"I've, I've seen death before," John said, nodding absently. "Experienced it firsthand. Seen men die in such ways, that I can't ever erase them from my memory. But, that was war, and it was expected. It happened on a regular basis. It wasn't shocking once you got used to it. And even when I came back, tagging along with you on all your cases, I saw death again. Death has always been there, has always been a part of me." John stopped talking, and pursed his lips together, tilting his head downwards. "Yet somehow, this, death, this one death, has managed to alter everything I know about it. Why is that?" John asked, looking up at me again, his eyes glassy. I took my time before answering.

"Because it took on the form of everyday life, where you felt the most safe and secure." I said in a voice barely above a whisper. John set his cup down on the table beside him and leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. A shuttering breath escaped his lips and my insides were no longer boiling. They were on fire. I couldn't stand the pain any longer.

Gently, ever so gently, I placed a hand on either of John's shoulder, and pushed him back so that he was facing me once more.

"Sherlock, I don't know what to do." John whispered, his eyes glimmering with tears. "John," I said decisively. "It's fine. It's all fine. You have me. You will always have me."

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**A/N: Sometimes, I wonder why you guys keep reading. Because I'm kind of heartless. But, this is just where the story ended up. I didn't know when I first started this that I would go this far. And there will be _many_ more chapters to come. Possibly some Johnlock if I can learn to write it properly. So, until next time, thanks for reading! :D**


	7. To Burn

**A/N: Wow, sorry this one took so long and that's it's so short. (I think I should stop apologizing for how short each chapter is because they're all short). Anyways, I got a wee bit stuck on this one since I touch on a pretty delicate subject with Sherlock and John's relationship. I wanted to make sure it was just right and not just spew out my first attempt. (There were several attempts of this one). **

**Soooo, if you hate me now, I'm pretty sure you will REALLY hate me after you read this, especially since I just started school again, and I won't be writing as much as I used to. So, you shall have to wait longer than usual. I'M SORRY BUT I'M NOT AT THE SAME TIME. I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOR READING, ENJOY!**

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A month had passed since Mary's death. The funeral was, well, as pleasant as a funeral could be. People gave John their condolences, and he took them graciously. But I knew he was only trying to be polite. He didn't want their sympathy. He didn't want any of it. Nothing could console him except to have his wife back.

I hated myself for not wanting the same thing.

It hurt me terribly to see John in pain. After he had moved back into Baker Street, I thought that things might return to how they used to be. But how naïve of me that was. Of course I knew John wouldn't be the same for some time, maybe ever. The life he had been certain he was going to settle down in had suddenly been ripped away from him. He had never anticipated this, not so soon. He was lost without a purpose. He wouldn't be able to just go back to his old bachelor life, not after he had finally obtained the stable, permanent life he had been chasing for so long. Yet I couldn't help but feel, relieved.

Relieved that John was back and that I no longer had to share him. But I despised myself for feeling this. My insides turned burning cold whenever the feeling came to me. I wish I could wash it away, but alas, it was too late.

This love, this fire that burned inside me, it ate away at me, leaving everything in its wake a charred mess. It wasn't healthy, this fire. I blamed it for everything that had gone wrong between John and me. I blamed the fire, but it did me no good. Because seeing John again was just the fuel it needed, and as long as John was around, it was never to fade away.

John didn't talk to me much. Not that he ever talked to me much when we lived together before. He mainly just listened. But now, there was very little conversation, and when there was, it was mundane and common. John no longer nagged me to eat, or told me off for being unkind or insensitive. He went to work, came home, made tea, and sat in his chair for the better part of the evening, then went off to bed. His nightmares had returned, and I could only imagine what they were about.

I didn't know what to do, which was an odd feeling. I just watched him drag himself through his daily routines and fought the urge to, to, do what? Hold him? Tell him how I missed him? Kiss him? Tell him that I loved him? That I was glad he was back? No, that would be, not good. That would tactless.

But what could I do? I couldn't just sit here and watch him dig his way into the same rut day in and day out. It was distracting, and I needed my old John back. Or at least, as much of him that I could salvage.

"John, we're going out." I said, grabbing my coat and wrapping my scarf around my neck as I watched John slowly turn his head towards me from his chair.

"What?" he said rather dazedly. I rolled my eyes.

"We're going out. You and I. Come." I said, grabbing his coat and holding it out. Surprisingly, he got up without argument and let me help him into his coat. Then we were off.

As we rode along in the cab, John didn't say a word. Which was odd, seeing as he always demanded of me some explanation whenever I dragged him along someplace unknown to him.

"Aren't you wondering where we're going?" I asked. John turned to me as if he hadn't heard me.

"Hmm?" I frowned.

"I said, aren't you wondering where we're going?" I repeated, becoming worried.

"Oh, um, sure. Where are we going Sherlock?" John seemed to have to force the words out of his mouth. I sighed and looked out the window.

"Sherlock? Are you going to tell me?" John said, an edge in his voice.

"Well, I was, but it seems it doesn't matter much."

"And why is that?"

"Because you don't seem to care."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your tone, your general lack of interest."

"Sherlock, I just lost my-" I turned my head sharply towards him and watched as he struggled with the last word in his sentence. "Driver, you can stop here." John said after a moment. The cabbie pulled off to the side of the road. We were at least five miles away from the flat and darkness was rapidly approaching. Where was he going?

"John, I didn't mean-" I said, going to grab John's arm.

"Sherlock, I know, I just, need some air." John said faintly, brushing my hand away. He closed the door of the cab and I watched him walk back towards the direction of the flat.

"Where to sir?" The cabbie asked. "Sir?" he asked again when I didn't answer, just watching John walk away.

"How much do I owe you?" I said, pulling out my wallet. After I paid the man, I stepped out of the cab and ran to John who had put a considerable length between himself and the cab.

"John! John!" I said as slowed to a stop behind him. John had turned around, looking surprised.

"Sherlock, I just want to be alone right now, okay?" John said, his annoyance ringing clear in his words.

"John, you have been alone for far too long. I can't let you do that now, not when you have me." I said determinedly. John just blinked at me, at a loss for words.

"Sherlock, I, well, I don't know what to say." John said, the color blossoming in his cheeks. I gritted my teeth together, unsure how to proceed without completely spewing my emotions for John all over the place like some lovesick fool. I was no fool, but this sickness was starting to consume me, and I had to relieve it somehow.

"John, I just, I have to tell you something." I forced out, my brow furrowing. John raised an eyebrow, suddenly wary.

"What is it?" John asked cautiously. I took a deep breath, and before I knew what I was doing, impulse took hold and I was reaching for John's face and pulling it in close and kissing his lips. After a few seconds, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I was being roughly shoved backwards. Well, it seemed that plan had failed.

"Sherlock, what the hell is wrong with you?!" John spat, wiping his mouth the back of his hand. I just gaped at him like an idiot. People were starting to stare, but I ignored them. What mattered to me was the disgusted look on John's face.

"I, I can't believe, God, Sherlock, what is wrong with you?" John said, running through his hands through his hair agitatedly.

"John, I, I'm sorry." I said, trying to compose myself. John stared at me with wide eyes before breaking out into sarcastic laughter.

"You know what? I can't deal with this right now." John said, hailing a cab. I watched him get in and drive off. He wasn't heading back towards the flat, meaning he was probably going to find a pub and stay there until he figured out what he was going to do next. So, I decided to walk home. It was a very long walk.

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**A/N: I am a terrible person, I know this. But, IT'S FUN TO KEEP YOU ALL IN SUSPENSE! So, until next time my dears, thanks for reading!**


	8. At Ease

**A/N: Oh my sweet mother of god, I finally finished it. I am so sorry for taking this long. I feel like a terrible person for making you wait THIS long. Much longer than previous waits.**

**Anways, I am particularly fond of this chapter. I was very careful with this one, making sure everyone thing was in its proper order and all. And I think it turned out very nicely. But man did it take motivation to finish it. I swear, I had the most agonzing writer's block with this one. BUT, it is here now, so no need to fret any longer my lovely readers. Chapter 8 is finally here, ENJOY.**

* * *

I decided it was better to avoid John at all costs, no matter what. John clearly would not want to talk about it, and I most certainly did not want to either. What I had done was, impulsive and childish. I didn't want to dwell on it. And yet, despite my best efforts, I did.

The first week was painful. John and I tip-toed around each other, averting eyes, casting sad excuses for smiles at one another, and gradually building an unbearable awkward barrier between us. Then the second week came.

We exchanged terse words when necessary, but that seemed to make matters worse, because every time I locked eyes with John, I was engulfed with his, accusations, his evident contempt towards me that was almost tangible. I knew he was _itching _to say something about that night. God, how horribly that had gone. It created this roiling sickness in my stomach, and by then, I would usually break the eye contact and walk out of the room quickly.

By the third week, I had taken permanent residence in my room. It was becoming steadily messier the more time I spent in there, and soon, I had created my own little nest of chaos and distress, books stacked all around my bed and nightstand, clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor, the occasional plate, (but those were scarce). I only exited my room when I knew John had left the flat or gone to his own room. But it seemed as if he too were avoiding the main living area. I would hear him retreat to his bedroom more often than normal, only dwelling in the kitchen long enough to get something to eat or to make tea. Perhaps he was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to come down and pounce, demanding an explanation for my actions. Me, getting paranoid about John trying to catch me unawares? I was losing my mind. This was getting out of hand. But I couldn't bring myself to confront him, not now, not yet.

Soon, I would do it soon. I would do it when I had a plan formulated and a script prepared in my head, with ever possibly scenario mapped out and ready. I would be ready. I just needed time…

* * *

Time apparently wasn't on my side. Of course, John's sometimes unpredictable nature caught me off guard, and by the fourth week, I was cornered by an angry army doctor.

"Tell me why you did it." He demanded from his chair as I entered the flat after having just come from a particularly dull case Lestrade had dragged me along on. I hung up my coat and scarf, taking my time before answering. Damn him for knowing when and how to trap me. I suppose my paranoia wasn't completely unplaced.

"It was impulsive." I said quietly, still facing away from him.

"That doesn't explain why you did it." I turned to face him. He looked calm, but I could see the storm brewing beneath the surface. I very much disliked seeing him like this, especially since it was targeted towards me.

"Isn't it obvious?" John shook his head, pursing his lips. I smiled weakly, nodding. "Of course."

"What is that supposed to mean?" John said sharply.

"Do you want to know why I did it or not?" I said that more harshly than I had intended, but it made John pay attention, so I continued with what I knew was going to be a long story.

"Mary made you happy, didn't she?" I asked, taking a seat on the sofa. John's posture tightened some, but he nodded. "And you loved her?"

"Yes, I did. I still do." I licked my lips.

"Why?"

"I don-"

"You understand perfectly. Now answer the question." I don't think John expected this conversation to go quite in this direction, but it didn't matter now. This is where it needed to go in order to get to the core of my actions.

"Because, she was kind, affectionate, lovely-"

"Oh spare me the blatant details John. _Give me the real reasons_." I growled.

"I'll tell what I damn well please!" John snapped angrily. I waited. "I loved Mary because she let me forget my past, and focus on my future. She let me be the man I had always wanted to be, and that was one who didn't have nightmares or the man who didn't jump at every noise, or the man who couldn't trust a damn person," John said bitterly. "I could relax around Mary, I was at ease." John's eyes became glassy and distant and inside me grew this aching, loneliness that I wished to dispel with every fiber of my being.

"And that was the start." I said softly. John turned his attention back to me, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"The realization. The moment when it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't give you what Mary could." John didn't look away, but sat staring at me in what looked like horror, but felt like, panic. What a beautifully complex character John was.

"What do you mean?"

"I suppose I had always, well, needed you. And I acknowledged that to some extent. But I didn't realize how _much_ I needed you. Not only for my work, no, it branched out much further than that. It seeped into my heart and bled out into my brain, and when I finally realized, when I had noticed Mary was steadily placing a barrier between you and I, the poison was already taking affect. And I was too late," I paused, so I could let John soak up my words, decide whether this was the opportunity for him to run and never look back, or to stay and hear the rest of my pathetic narrative. But I paused also to assess how much damage I was inflicting upon my shell that was gradually cracking and wearing away with each word. I was neither content nor sickened by this breakage. I was merely numb. And so I continued after the assessment was over, ready as I ever was going to be whilst exposing my vulnerable self to the only person I trusted enough to witness it.

"By the time I had realized that I, well, that I cared for you in such a way, you had already made up your mind. And _oh_ how I wished you tear you and Mary apart, and I tried. I really did. But apparently not hard enough. You see, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I had wounded you permanently through my own selfishness, and that is the truth, John, the honest truth. And then you proposed and everything started to crumble. It wasn't just that I was going to be alone. I was alone before. It was the fact that I was going to be alone knowing that I could have had you, maybe, even if it was a long shot. With the fact that I was too stupid, and blind to realize sooner my feelings, and that I could have acted on them earlier. That's what was so, unbearable. So you see John," I smiled forlornly. "The reason I kissed you was because I was happy that you had returned to me, even if it hurt you. I kissed you because I thought maybe I could still have a chance. I kissed you because it had been what I had yearned for for so long, and that I may not have ever gotten the chance again. Forgive me if I have ruined all that we had in the past. Forgive my stupidity and my weak, shallow attempts to have you. And please John, forgive me if I have in any way, permanently damaged you. That was not my intention. It never was."

John and I sat in silence for seemed like ages. He didn't take his eyes off of me, and nor did I. We remained locked in perpetual questioning and awareness. It was agonizing.

When John finally moved, it was to get up and grab his coat and walk out the flat. He didn't say a word, he didn't look back. He didn't even tell me where he was going. He just left. And I didn't blame him. I _had_ just given the man the most I had ever given to anyone else.

* * *

I didn't hide in my room. But I didn't sit awaiting his return either. I didn't want to, pressure him when he did indeed decide to come back. Instead, I went for a walk and decided to lose myself by observing. Nothing in particular, just, anything and everything that caught my eye. And it worked, for a little while. But when the numbing qualities that my observations had given me started to fade, and the thought of John slowly edged its way back into my mind, I knew I must turn back. Oddly enough, it seemed a similar notion had struck John, because just as I was about to reach the front steps, John came walking up.

"John-" John stopped me by putting up his hand. I fell silent and waited. Slowly, ever so slowly, John leaned forward, gently taking my coat collar and pulling me down gradually.

There have only been a few moments in my life where I felt my heart stop. This was one of them.

John stopped only centimeters away from my lips. He just stared at them, as if debating whether or not to proceed. And then he did, kissing my lips so softly it felt as if we weren't even touching. But dear God, I felt this kiss sear through my bones and the heat of it all poured out of my ears and consumed me in a delicious fire that burned every doubt and fear I had ever had away. And then it was over. And John was walking up the steps and through the front door. And I was left wondering if what had just happened was something that I had fabricated in my mind, or reality. John Watson had kissed me, and I was left wanting more.

_When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth_.

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**A/N: Okay, I'm not even going to apologize for the lengths anymore. This was one was the perfect length in my opinion. ANYWAYS, I do hope you enjoyed this one, especially after having to wait for so long. I believe this is one of my better chapters, if I do say so myself. And, CLIFFHANGER. But I hardly think that's suprising given how I ended previous ones. So, until next time, THANK YOU FOR READING. I HOPE TO HAVE CHAPTER 9 UP SOON BUT DON'T BELIEVE A WORD I SAY. **


	9. Tasting Fire

**A/N: WARNING: IF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE SOME ANGTSY COMFORT FIC, _YOU THOUGHT WRONG._ Yeah, that's right, things about to get HOT in here. I even changed the rating, so, brace yourself. **

**ENJOY!**

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It is true that I have been blind and out of my depth (scarce as those times may be) in the past; that I have ignored certain signs and key facts concerning mine and John's relationship. But I have worked through these issues, persisted until I found the answer. I pushed my way through such struggles until I was certain I was right. Yet as I stood in front of 221B, barely registering the cold, I could find neither an answer to what had just happened, nor a logical explanation as to why I couldn't find an answer. What John had done, was, unexpected. Good, but, unexpected.

* * *

John didn't come out of his room for the rest of the evening. I remained in the living room, determined to launch into my interrogation as soon as he came groggily down the steps in the morning. When he finally did, I was ready.

"No." John said as soon as he saw me sitting in my chair when he entered the room.

"But I haven't said anything."

"Yes, but Sherlock, I know you. I know what you're going to say."

"Oh really, what am I going to say?"

"You're going to ask me why I kissed you last night." I smirked and shook my head.

"I was just going to ask you if you wished to accompany me on my latest case." John stood staring at me for a moment, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"Yes, I only wanted to ask if you would come with me to Scotland Yard. But, seeing as we're on the subject," I said as John relaxed some. "Why did you kiss me?" John opened his mouth, but then quickly shut it again and shuffled into the kitchen. Damn. Almost.

"John, it's a simple question-"

"What is that supposed to mean?" John snapped, bringing his mug down harder onto than the counter than necessary. I sighed.

"You know what I meant. Will you answer my question or not?" John pursed his lips together.

"No." John said firmly, but I could tell his resolve was weakening.

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"That's hardly fair."

"Meaning?" John demanded.

"Meaning you forced an explanation out of me. Can I not do the same?"

"That was different. You hid away in your room for a month before I had a chance to confront you!" John said exasperatedly.

"John, we both know that you are not the type to hide away in a room for fear of confrontation. You're better than that." John's eyes softened some. Just a little bit more and he would be mine.

"Sherlock, I just woke up."

"Fine, I'll let you wake up, but when you're fully functioning, I expect an answer." I said, walking past him to go to my room.

"Wait, what about your case?" I looked back and smiled slyly at him and then shut my door, leaving him looking disgruntled.

* * *

An hour later, clothed only in my pajamas and robe, I came out to find John had showered and was sitting at the table in the living room reading the newspaper. Or at least, he was trying to give off the impression he was reading it. I could tell he was just staring at the print, his mind somewhere else. I could only guess where.

"You know," I said quietly, my voice seeming to have snapped John out of his reverie for he jumped slightly at the sound of it. "I just want to know why. Nothing more. What happens after that is entirely up to you." John stiffened some, setting down the paper.

"What do you want to know?" John said after a moment.

"Everything."

* * *

"I love Mary. I do. That's why I married her," John said softly. "But, even still, there were times when I thought things were too, quiet. She made me feel at ease, but why I thought that would be better than what I had, I don't know. Maybe it's what I thought would be best for me. Maybe it was what I thought was supposed to make me better, mentally. Turns out, it just gave me more time to dwell on the past." John said, looking up at me. I had taken my usual seat at the table, listening to him. He looked guilty and in pain, and as much I wanted him to continue, I was starting to regret asking him in the first place. But it was necessary, if our friendship was ever to survive.

"I never told you this, but a month after we were married, the nightmares started again. Mary insisted I get medication, that I should see my therapist again. I did, for a little bit. But I didn't feel, myself. I was starting to feel like the man that I was before I met you," John took a deep breath and looked at his hands before looking back up at me, a determined look on his face. "I still loved Mary, but I didn't feel the same. It was too, easy. And then, the accident...I don't blame myself for that, but, I do feel guilty that I ever doubted our relationship. That after all I had gone through to get what I wanted, it ended up being for nothing in the end. So, when you told me," John paused and shook his head. "Everything, I just, well, it all made sense. Why did I go out search for what I thought I wanted, when what I needed, was already right there in front of me?"

* * *

Never have I made a motion so sure, so precise, yet so thoughtless and full of impulse than the one I made to gently leaned across the table, place both hands on either side of John's face, and kiss him at first tenderly, then fiercely. The heat I felt coursing through our connected lips was enigmatic yet so completely addicting. I pushed hungrily forward, forcing myself onto John. And he pushed back, fighting tooth and nail to drive himself closer to me.

Then, we were standing, gripping each other, kissing more and more deeply. John's tongue found its way into my mouth and I welcomed it with my own, sliding it over the roof of his mouth. Teeth grazed lips, lips sucked lips, and soon shirts and robes found their way to the floor and my bare hands ran smooth over John's lightly tanned chest and shoulders. I lowered my head to slowly suck on John's neck. He shivered and pulled my hair, yanking my head back so that our lips met and the aggressive kissing resumed once more.

I felt hands on the waistband of my bottoms, and I bit softly on John's lower lip. He moaned and his hand dove below the waistband. My erection by now was beyond hiding and just before John's hand grabbed hold of it, he pulled back slightly and looked at me, punch-drunk, his eyebrow raised in amused confusion.

"No pants?" he whispered hoarsely. I grinned and leaned in to place my lips on his ear.

"None." I growled. His hand gripped me and I took a fistful of John's still wet hair.

"Ready?" John asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Whenever you are."

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**A/N: Okay, keep in mind this is my first time writing any kind of smut so, it may not be the greatest. I know this isn't much smut, but believe me, next chapter, you will have smut. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading! **


	10. Denial

**A/N: OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD IT WAS TO DO THIS. Like seriously guys, this was a battle. I restarted this so many times, at one point even considering doing it from John's POV, but man, this was a struggle. Thank you all for being so patient. I hope you all are still up for reading it, despite my extremely delayed updates and my inability to be consistent. I hope you enjoy this small chapter. Thanks!**

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John was unsteady with his hand at first, assumingly because had never done this to another man before. But with each kiss, both tender and savage, I placed on his face and neck, he gradually found a rhythm and the whole experience became sweet bliss. His touch sent my blood burning through my veins and ignited a cool flame of passion in my chest that wished so dearly to escape and consume John whole. I eagerly gripped his hair and moaned freely and John's pace sped up, his hand pumping me furiously. Not wanting to stand idle any longer, I gripped his shoulders and clumsily steered John toward the couch. We feel atop it, I straddling his waist, and I gave way to my passion by kissing every inch of John that I could.

"Sherlock…" John moaned, placing his hands behind my neck and arching his back as I kissed the tip of his erect penis. I licked my way up his torso and bit softly onto his neck, eliciting a most glorious response from him. He tugged on my hair and his hips bucked against mine and when I repeated the action, a similar response ensued; only this time, John pulled my face forcefully towards his and he kissed me forcibly on the lips. I opened his mouth with my tongue and started tracing it along the roof his mouth. He in turn pushed his tongue into my mouth and his taste was so exhilarating it made me groan. Moving my hips against John's, I moved my mouth to his right ear and started sucking on the lobe. He grabbed my waist as if to anchor himself to me, matching my movement with his own hips. It was then that I realized that I still had my trousers on.

Sitting up, I tried to tug them off, but found it to be rather difficult while still astride John. So I sat back and finally managed to kick them to the floor. At last, we were both naked, but when I tried to return to my position on top of John, I found there to be a look of horror on John's face, as if a dreadful realization had just occurred to him.

"John…?" But he was already sitting up, his face deathly white. He was pushing me away and then hurriedly walking over to where he had left his clothes and robe on the floor.

"John, is something wrong? What did I do?" I said, confused. John just shook his head as he struggled to put on his pajamas once more.

"I can't Sherlock, I just can't." John muttered, and then looked down as he realized he had put his shirt on backwards.

"You can't what?" I said, my passion quickly ebbing away, only to be replaced with a slow burning anger.

"This! I can't do this Sherlock!" John roared, turning sharping towards me. I sat, naked on the couch, watching him in complete disbelief. "I just can't."

"Really? Is that so?" I said my voice deadly cool. John sighed and shook his head once more.

"You don't understand." My lip curled at that.

"Do you think you're the only one who suffers here John? I didn't peg you as a selfish man, but it seems recent events would say otherwise-"

"I lost my wife!" John shouted, throwing his shirt on the floor.

"And I lost my only friend!" I snarled, standing up. John just stared at me, stricken. "You're the one who doesn't understand John! You, who claim to know me so well, couldn't even grasp the simple thing that we had."

"'Had'?" John said faintly.

"Yes John, 'had', because ever since you married that woman, you succeeded in tarnishing our friendship and casting me aside! This is why I cling to no one John! This is why friendship and attachment are something I rarely tried to cement. Because in the end, they always disappointed me!" I slumped back down onto the couch, breathing heavily. John looked defeated, his shoulders sagging and his eyes glimmering.

"So go on then, leave. It's not like you haven't done so before." I said icily.

"Sherlock, I-"

"Go!" I barked. John gave me one last pathetic look before walking out of the flat and up to his room, shutting the door behind him. I sat there, numb to my surroundings until my eyes focused in on an object lying on the floor. John's white shirt lay heaped in the middle of the living room, abandoned by its owner. I stood and picked it up. I wanted to cast it aside, but instead, held it to my face and inhaled John's smell. There was a heavy feeling in my chest that pulled from me one solitary sob, and I buried my face completely in the shirt before I sunk to my knees and knelt there, my shell completely shattered.

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**A/N: I don't really know where I'm going to go from this, but, hopefully it won't take me nearly as long to write the next chapter as it did this one. Thanks for reading! :D **


	11. A Blessing

**A/N: Hey, so, I finally finished. I believe this will be my final chapter, so enjoy!**

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I don't know who to blame: John, or me? Who is at fault in this twisted problem of emotions? I would like to say it was John's but for some reason, I can't. In fact, I don't want to. Nothing about blaming John seems appealing to me. Nor would it do us any good.

In fact, I should be thanking John. He gave me the stability I needed, the guidance I lacked. The friendship I craved. I was the selfish one, always taking never giving. But somehow, I can't seem to say that either. John's evident refusal and rejection would surely crack the temporary, yet fragile, barrier I have put up; a thin coating that lets the little things glide over me, unharmed, but surely cannot withstand a force such as that.

How ironic that in all my efforts to keep the dearest person in my life close to me, I end up pushing him away instead. It really goes to show what a sick mind I possess, no matter how brilliant. John doesn't need this. He's already lost so much, grieved for far more than his fair share. I simply hold him back.

I will not pretend that my feelings, feelings that can hardly be explained, for my flat mate are nonexistent. That would be foolish. No, but I will hide them. They are messy and worm their way into every crevice of our fragile relationship, can tip the scale at any moment if I am not careful. I am master of my emotions, something I pride myself on. If I can manage to squash down any petty emotion as I have done in the past, then I can keep them below the surface now. But, this will surely be the most challenging attempt. Because wherever John is concerned, things become, complicated and I end up tangled in a sticky web, unable to free myself. I can't get tangled in the web this time. For both of our benefit. It's probably the most selfless thing that I have ever done. Letting John go. Letting him live the life he deserves, at the expense of my last tie to humanity.

"Sherlock?" John stood in the doorway of the flat, his face flushed from the cold having obviously just come home from work.

"Sherlock, look, I know things are, well, messy," he said, walking into the room and sitting opposite me. He looked painfully earnest. I could feel the stress rolling off of him. Two days had passed since we had last spoke, since the final straw. This business needed to be finished now. It must. Everything must have an end; even the most sacred things.

"John, listen-"

"No, _you_ listen to me Sherlock Holmes," John said firmly, his face set in determination. I raised an eyebrow. What more could he possibly say? How much more damage could be done? "I just, I've been thinking about what you said."

"And?" John paused before answering.

"And, I'm sorry. I know that that's not much to say, but I am." John's words were weighted with remorse. I settled back into my chair and observed him for a moment. The tension built up in his shoulders and neck was extremely visible, that even the most unobservant idiot would have been able to tell that John was struggling with something. His eyes were clouded with turmoil, swirling about in an endless storm. But his expression, so dogged and clear, told me that all that instability and tension didn't matter. He had a mission. He was setting out to accomplish that mission. I couldn't let him do so.

"I don't blame you John. If anything, I am the one to blame. I just wish I had realized this sooner. But, I can't go back and change my actions and my words. What is done, is done. You deserve far better, and so that I why I am going to leave you alone, so that you may move on with your li-"

"Wait, wait a minute, hold on," John said, confusion written all over his face. "What're you saying? That you're going to walk away from all of this, _because_ _I deserver better?_"

"Well yes. Isn't that what you want?" I asked, but even as I spoke he was already shaking his head.

"Sherlock, you daft bastard, if I deserve anything, I deserve to tell you what I bloody want!" I stared at him, dumbstruck. "Will you listen to me? Please?" I pursed my lips and nodded.

"Of course."

"Thank you," he said then took a deep breath before continuing. "I want to be able sit in this very chair, with you there, every single day. I want to be able to make you tea, to tell you to eat, to tell you off for leaving your damn experiments all about the house. I want to be able to, tell you 'I love you' every single goddamn day, no matter how infuriating you're being. But really, I want you to be able to love me as you claim to love me, because, if all you said was true, by all means, I will take it gladly."

"But yesterday-"

"I panicked. I bloody panicked and I regret doing so and I shouldn't have, but I did. It's going to be a while before I'm over Mary's death. And I will always love her," John stopped to make sure I was listening by giving me a stern look. "But, I can't just ignore what you've always been to me. No matter how much of a prick you can be." John smiled slightly at this, but his eyes were heavy and sad. Everything I was going to say, everything that I had planned on doing, faded away as I looked into those morose eyes. If I left now, I would ruin everything, as I had done so before. That would be considerably foolish of me.

I leaned forward, placing my hands on my knees, and looked John square in the eyes.

"You are the only constant in my life. I would never cast that away." John raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You were just about to though."

"Yes, but due to your always perfect and _constant_ timing, I didn't." John broke into a wide grin and leaned forward as well, only inches from my face.

"I suppose I'll take that." He closed the gap and our lips met. I, without thinking, cradled his face with both of my hands and deepened the kiss. We remained like this for some time, the kiss becoming steadily more desperate, until John's fingers were fumbling over the buttons on my shirt, eventually pulling it off. I yanked off his coat, then his jumper, and at last his shirt and ran my hands over his chest, my tongue finding his neck and lacing a trail all the way down to his right nipple. He grabbed my hair and a groan escaped me. I bit down on his shoulder and he gasped, pulling my face back to his so that he could bite my lip softly.

We continued to kiss in this manner, so much so that we ended up on the floor, trousers and pants having been discarded so that we lay naked, I straddling John. I moved my head down his torso until I found his erect penis and teasingly licked the tip, savoring the salty taste and committing to memory the sound John made as I did this. I kissed the entire length of it, occasionally licking and putting it partially in my mouth to suck slowly. John soon began making impatient noises and I couldn't wait any longer so put his entire cock into my mouth, the feeling of it there going straight to my groin.

"Sherlock." John groaned, his hands firmly in my hair. I slowly stared to move up and down his cock, and as my lips slid over the hot flesh, I felt myself grow more and more aroused. I soon added the use of my hands, moving them at the base of his cock and working him steadily quicker. His breaths came out in short huffs and I too was finding it hard to breathe as my arousal was reaching its peak.

John wriggled beneath me as I worked him faster and faster.

"Sherlock, please." John said gruffly. I stopped my work and looked up at him. He was looking down at me, clearly desperate. I crawled back up so that my head was level with his once more and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Then, grabbing both our cocks with one hand, I slid my hand over them while still kissing John. John groaned into my mouth as he came. At this point, I was near the edge myself, almost at my peak. It was in pure agony as I watched John come down from his orgasm, a look of pure delight on his face. I was breathing in short gasps; my head tilted back, eyes closed. After a moment though, I felt a pair of lips on my cock and my eyes snapped open. John was working me in the same vigorous manner in which I had performed. All coherent thought was lost in my splendid orgasm, the feel of John's lips still on my cock, the chafe of his stubble on my thigh.

I pulled John toward me for a hazy kiss.

"I'm sorry for everything." I mumbled into John's ear.

"Shut up and enjoy the moment you bastard."

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**A/N: So, thank you all for following and reading and what not. I had so much fun writing this. I know at times, I wasn't always consistent with my posting and all, but thank you all for sticking with me and giving me such wonderful feedback. If you have an suggestions for furture stories that you'd like me to try, just message or find me on tumblr at .com (that's my writing blog) or on my personal blog at .com. Again, thank you so much! :'D (Also, I might do an epilogue, still thinking about that, but let me know what you think about that). **


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